


when freckles burn against saccharine guilt (i'll find you)

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Crushes, F/F, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Melancholy, Self-Discovery, Self-Esteem Issues, Sexuality Crisis, Unreliable Narrator, background pairings: hinanami and bandaid, kind of, sato/natsumi if you squint super hard, why can i not think of tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 23:47:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25553818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: and it’s strange, because saionji is still tempered and harsh and critical. she still turns up her nose at practically everyone, calls people out for bullshit they never fully did, and spits out venomous taunts like it’s enjoyable. and koizumi hates it, hates when people are mean, hates when people act like assholes---but she likes saionji. a lot.(or, a narrative following the events of koizumi's self discovery, her coming-to-terms with her sexuality, her developed love for her best friend, and the tragedy they suffer through to find each other.)
Relationships: Koizumi Mahiru/Saionji Hiyoko
Comments: 11
Kudos: 90





	when freckles burn against saccharine guilt (i'll find you)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Xx_M0THM4N_xX](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xx_M0THM4N_xX/gifts).



and at the end of it all,

she isn’t meant to love her.

-/-

_ ever since she was a kid _ \-- her cheeks rosy and her fingers chubby-- she’s disliked men. in a simplistic way, she always liked the chants about boys being gross, holding hands with kindergarten girls as they talk about how  _ stupid  _ and  _ smelly  _ the guys in their class are. she would sit at the very front of the classroom with crossed legs, knees nudging her best friend, and the people behind her couldn’t pull her hair, cropped short  _ ever since she was a kid. _

when she got older, she settled into the role of caretaker for her father at her mother’s absence, grew accustomed to the feeling of disappointment in supposed strong men. she didn’t sing songs anymore, a pout on her face and eyebrows furrowed. instead she cleaned, cooked, fiddled with her mom’s spare camera some more, and she ended up  _ famous. _

she didn’t understand it. her mother’s technique was always  _ better _ . the way she captured images, taken during the war, how she showed the lighting and the angles-- it was  _ immaculate _ . and all her daughter does is  _ fiddle with the lens. _

she leaves her high school to go to hope’s peak, reuniting with her middle school best friend. she carefully does not befriend the boys in her class. she carefully does not trust the male faculty. she sticks to herself and her group of girl friends, her camera an endless ache on her neck.

(idly, she wonders if she’s projecting, just a bit. 

koizumi mahiru decidedly doesn’t take selfies.)

-/-

she likes her group of friends.

there’s mioda, bright and zealous. she has a pretty singing voice, one that fits metal songs better, and koizumi has always been a bit more into pop music, but she always makes a note to listen to every song mioda puts out. she always brings the group together-- whether it be a conversation after an argument or hanging out after weeks of assignments-- and she doesn’t seem to falter. she’s a good listener and an even better talker, and every hug she gives koizumi sets her heart at ease.

there’s tsumiki. she’s the timid ultimate nurse, her hands wringing together as she quivers in her spot, and she’s always reminded koizumi of shrinking (she adjusts the angles accordingly). mioda has a not-so-subtle crush on her, which is understandable, because tsumiki is compassionate and intelligent, even if sometimes scatter-brained and clumsy, and she puts others first.

maybe too much. koizumi understands that, though. she just doesn’t say a word of it.

sato is her best friend from middle school, with long green hair and violet eyes. she’s assertive and loyal, hard-working and defensive. she’s a reserve course student, but koizumi doesn’t mind, though the admiration of the ultimates leaves a pit of guilt in the bottom of her stomach. she comes to koizumi’s dorm room, sometimes, fiddles with a polaroid camera instead of studying while koizumi lays on her bed and talks aimlessly about nothing. she’s  _ always there _ .

at first glance, sato  _ might  _ be her closest friend.

and then, there’s saionji.

-/-

in an objective lens, with the saturation turned down, saionji is mean.

she  _ likes  _ being mean, too, is the thing. she squishes ants with the tips of her finger, and koizumi feels her heart hurt a bit at it, and saionji is quick to fire insults and everyone she comes into contact with. koizumi talks to a reserve boy, once; saionji chants “reservie!” every time she sees him after the fact. it’s confusing and upsetting, how rude and abrasive she is, with everyone  _ except  _ koizumi.

because, with koizumi, it’s sweet smiles and hugs and braided hair, it’s photographs and learning to dance and summertime. 

and koizumi doesn’t know why she’s special. 

she sits saionji down, once, and explains why being mean like that  _ isn’t good. _ and there’s not much of a difference initially, maybe out of spite, but over time koizumi can see that saionji is a bit better about it. when tsumiki bursts into tears, she bites her tongue. when sato’s voice raises, she stops pushing it. when kuzuryuu calls her a jackass, she doesn’t push too hard on each and every one of his insecurities.

(though, sometimes, koizumi could let the last one slide.)

and it’s strange, because saionji is  _ still  _ tempered and harsh and critical. she still turns up her nose at practically everyone, calls people out for bullshit they never fully did, and spits out venomous taunts like it’s  _ enjoyable.  _ and koizumi hates it, hates when people are mean, hates when people act like assholes-

-

-but she likes saionji. a lot.

and, maybe it’s because she understands why she does it. maybe it’s because saionji actually tries to hold herself back, sometimes, when she presses too deep on something. maybe it’s because half the things she says are just echoes of what people used to say to her. maybe, maybe, maybe. 

but koizumi tries not to overthink it.

(she doesn’t sleep, sometimes.)

-/-

the thing is, koizumi has known for a while that she’s attracted to guys.

it’s just a thing. a stupid fucking thing that maybe doesn’t warrant any emphasis, but it’s what she’s always been surrounded with. girls she hung out with in middle school would whisper about the guys in her class, and she was never  _ all  _ that interested, but she could acknowledge that some of the people were kind of nice. minor crushes, and all that.

what comes as a bigger shock, though, is that she isn’t…  _ only  _ attracted to guys.

the realization that she’s bisexual should have come a bit quicker, all things considered, because she’s  _ always  _ found the girls around her pretty. she had crushes on the guys in middle school, sure, but she thought about the way sato’s hand fit in hers  _ a lot more _ . the way her haircut framed her face (and still does), the color of her lips, even-- it was always so  _ clear  _ to her.

but, she never thought much beyond that.

it starts becoming an issue at hope’s peak, actually. her interest in sato is pretty much null, at least in a romantic sense (sato’s interested in someone else, now, who makes koizumi bite her lip in worry. but, crushes aren’t kind and neither are the crushes themselves. she supposes that applies to them both), but she…

she… 

she starts to make observations about saionji.

the way her golden-blonde hair shines in the summer, the sound of her giggle resonating in classroom 1-A, the tangerine hue of her irises… almost all of the polaroid pictures in koizumi’s room have saionji in it. and, she never thought much about it, thought that maybe it was  _ normal _ , that they were just  _ best friends  _ and  _ nothing more _ .

because, if she really  _ did  _ like her, wouldn’t it hit her with a shock? wouldn’t her heart flutter just a little bit more? wouldn’t the world tell her? she didn’t think something like love (maybe it’s too early to call it that, but koizumi wouldn’t know) mimicked a glove, easy to slip on and suddenly overwhelming with a sense of comforting  _ heat.  _ she didn’t think it would be so seamless, so sudden, without any build up-

-and she doesn’t know who to tell.

so, she tells a maybe friend (reservie, reservie, reservie). 

hinata isn’t someone she can fully trust, really. sure, he’s surprisingly nice to photograph and conventionally attractive, enough so that koizumi thought for a brief period of time that she was maybe into him, but he’s still a guy. a guy she doesn’t know well. a guy who has a slightly different sense of humor, a sense of melancholy surrounding him. a guy she feels like a single photograph of isn’t enough.

she walks with him after his afternoon classes, sometimes. it’s usually because hope’s peak wants some male models, and she figures he’s a fairly good pick, but it simmers into something closer to friendship. she doesn’t overthink it too much.

they’re usually quiet, taking in the scenery and listening to the rush of students in the courtyard. one day, she breaks it, extremely abruptly, and blurts out, “i like girls.”

hinata stares at her with something like thinly masked confusion. he blinks a bit before looking back at their walking path and shrugging. “me too?” he replies, almost like a question.

she sighs a bit. “i know.”

something must have shifted in her tone (images come easier to her, colors and hues and angles, instead of words and the thought behind them) because the glance he gives her is a bit softer, this time. she almost calls him out for looking so pitying, but what he says is surprisingly not that patronizing. instead, it’s casual, and yet a bit nervous. “i mean, i like guys too.”

“oh,” she says out loud before she realizes that she shouldn’t sound so shocked. she bites her lip apologetically, but he doesn’t seem to care, still walking with the same gait as before. eventually, she manages to move around the lump in her throat and asks, “how did you know?”

he shrugs again. “i guess i just… always thought guys were attractive. like, i think i’ve had a lot more crushes on girls, or whatever, but i also just… thought boys were cool, too. uh, sorry, i’m not sure if that was all that helpful-”

“no, no, it was!” she reassures. her voice is a bit softer when she continues, “i think i’ve always liked girls a lot. but, i had one or two crushes on guys, so i thought that i was just… aesthetically appreciating girls, instead of… actually liking them.”

“yeah. it’s kind of shitty-”

“language.”

he rolls his eyes. “it kind of sucks, how weird people make it seem. if you like the same gender, that is. like, it’s really not a big deal, so i don’t know why it’s so…”

she nods a bit and sighs again. “yeah. i guess. i mean, i like a girl right now. it’s just hard to reconcile with the idea that i’m… what, bisexual? is that the term?”

“i think that’s the term. also, if you feel cool with sharing, who is it that you like?”

“jeez, boys are so nosy,” she huffs. she cuts him off before he can awkwardly laugh and apologize, though, as per tradition, and answers, “uh, hiyoko-chan.”

he raises his eyebrow. “you like saionji?” 

“yeah,” she rubs the back of her neck. “yeah, i do.”

“well, i guess you like what you like,” he mumbles. “uh, to, like, return the uh… secret, i guess? i… kind of like nanami.”

she laughs, and it feels unnatural, in the moment, to her but also  _ freeing. _ she gives him a smile, one that he returns easily. “chiaki-chan is really pretty.”

he grins wider, albeit a bit sheepishly. “she really is.”

“hiyoko-chan’s pretty too,” she adds matter-of-factly.

“i’ll take your word for it.”

it’s… easier to handle, when someone else knows about it. but still, it’s-

-

-it’s terrifying.

-/-

she tries to tell her, one day, when they’re in her dorm room and koizumi is helping tie up her kimono. she tries to say something like  _ hey, you’re really cute, but not in a friend way,  _ or  _ can i photograph you on my wall?  _ or the many ways to try and address it without saying it.

she doesn’t, in the end. because once the kimono is tied up, saionji asks her to dance, and she’s so lost in the music and the sight of the other that she can’t say a thing.

-/-

she wishes she said something, then.

-/-

the hue of enoshima’s hair is nothing like the hue of saionji’s hair. it’s peach and strawberry, it’s oversaturated, but koizumi can’t adjust it down, can’t settle the colors. she’s tall, taller than koizumi, and her breath is like saccharine cinnamon and she can’t bring herself to fully love it, not when saionji’s has always had the scent of candy. her kisses and her embraces are suffocating, not tight, not tight like how saionji’s are.

koizumi still loves her, still loves despair, anyway. still fascinates herself with the polaroid image she would always retake, still finds herself spilling all her troubles, saying everything she could never say to someone else, to  _ her.  _ because, enoshima  _ listens _ , and 

and

and koizumi forgets about the love, in the end, shoves it in the back of her mind as she goes to novoselic silently, takes photographs of sonia nevermind, averts her eyes from the person who hinata became, watches saionji and mioda’s performances with a kind of glee that has nothing to do with  _ them, _ just  _ caricatures,  _ and she  _ loses herself _ ,

(but, there’s a whisper in the back of her mind, through it all, when they’re on the boat to that fucking island. the glimpse of a thought, one she clings to with a kind of hatred, something she keeps with her despite it all:

_ i want it back. i want it all back. kimonos and dancing and candy and hugs, and self discovery, and loving her. i want it back. i want to go back. _

_ i miss her. _ )

-/-

koizumi doesn’t trust people easily.

for one, she doesn’t trust the men on this island. even if nidai seems dependable, and hinata has a kind of charm to him, and togami is somewhat respectable, she refuses to trust them. not until they prove their reliability to her.

she gets along well with the girls, though. sonia is wonderfully kind and polite, owari is strong, albeit a bit reckless, tsumiki is meek but a sweetheart, mioda is upbeat and enthusiastic, pekoyama is quiet but trustworthy, nanami is soft and sweet, and

and saionji…

saionji is mean. saionji is rude and cruel and harsh… but saionji is also  _ sweet _ . she pushes it, sure, but she tries to stop (or she does if koizumi squints), and she’s learning, and everyone is so  _ hard  _ on her…

the third night on jabberwock, the two of them spend time together. in one gush of information, saionji tells koizumi everything, hides it in jokes, talks about the past that she never tells  _ anybody _ , and koizumi holds her when she sees genuine tears slide down her cheek. she soothes her with a bit of candy and some equally-sweet words, 

and in that very night, the two of them share a kiss. 

it’s tentative, and it’s soft, and it’s quick. koizumi can taste fruit gummies and sugar on the other’s lips, and it releases the tension that has been building in her shoulders since she woke up on this confusing island. when they release, saionji huffs a bit, says something about not being the type to kiss and koizumi starts apologizing, but saionji just laughs and snuggles against her, poking all the spots on her cheeks where the freckles are,

and it’s the most peaceful day she can remember, there.

later, she walks back to her cottage, lays down on her bed and runs her hands along all the freckles on her cheeks, then her lips. she’s excited to see the other again, excited to give her a hug, excited to explore this fucked-up place with her, because she makes it better. and she never expected to fall  _ so fast  _ for a girl, for a girl like _ saionji _ , but she…

… it feels like this isn’t the first time they’ve met.

she falls asleep and the thought disappears in the morning, pushed to the back of her mind. but it’s not the last time she thinks it, not the last time she wonders about the constraints on this island, not the last time she wonders about  _ her _ .

-/-

the last time the thought crosses her mind is when she feels the thump on her head, falling to the ground as her knees crumple and her head aches with the pain of blunt force trauma, a baseball bat. as she falls, her consciousness blips out, like the lighting and the saturation and the angle and  _ all of it _ is gone, and she can taste blood in her mouth.

it doesn’t taste sweet. it doesn’t taste like candy. it tastes like guilt.

and when she dies, all she can think of is crippling guilt, scalding blood, and saionji’s kisses.

_ i’m sorry. _

-/-

she wishes she said something, then.

-/-

when she wakes up, accepting the slightly-clammy hand of hinata, her eyes immediately scan the room for saionji. hinata patiently explains that saionji hasn’t woken up yet. koizumi isn’t sure she feels a thing, at that.

the two of them talk, to bide their time, in the few and far between spaces of free time hinata allows himself. koizumi brings up the space before the kamukura project. hinata says that it’s a blur to him, that he can vaguely remember it, that despair is so  _ distinct  _ but he himself  _ isn’t _ . koizumi doesn’t reply to that.

she waits by saionji’s side for days until sonia, politely yet firmly, tells her to rest in her cottage. she does it, does it because she knows she has to, but she dreams so  _ vividly  _ of everything she’s done that it’s hard to sleep, hard to take care of herself when she doesn’t have something to fixate on that  _ isn’t  _ saionji’s well-being.

one day, she walks to the place on the beach where they first kissed, and kuzuryuu is the one to find her hours later, still crying. he doesn’t say a word as he helps her walk back, bids her a silent goodnight, and she sleeps through the next day.

it’s unfathomable to even  _ think  _ about recovery, without a constant like her.

-/-

she takes pictures of all the places on the islands she wants to show her.

(and then…)

-/-

when saionji blinks her eyes open, the first thing she sees is hinata.

which is totally lame! because, sure he has a cool eye, and sure it’s better than being dead, but he’s still an ugly motherfucker and she calls him that to his face. he gives a strained laugh and explains all this bullshit, bla bla bla  _ you’re not all dead,  _ bla bla- wait.

then, someone comes into the room.

saionji recognizes those freckles, recognizes the voice that kinda reminds her of honey, recognizes the faint scent of fresh air and lemons, recognizes  _ koizumi _ . she sobs, and saionji wants to say something like  _ hey, don’t cry _ , but that’d be stupid because saionji is crying, too, and koizumi grabs her hand and whispers  _ let’s start again _ and hinata is still watching like a weirdo but saionji nods with all the strength she can muster.

maybe, this time, they can be together without any psycho bitches or demon bears to stop them.

maybe, this time, koizumi can fix things, and she can tell her all the things she never said. 

-/-

and at the end of it all,

she isn’t meant to love her.

but she does anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> mahiyoko week! prompt was candy / freckles!!! 
> 
> i really adored this prompt, but i'm not 1000% satisfied with this product. it wasn't very close to the prompt, and i feel like it's a bit. hm. not super well paced? but, for a ship i've never really written or thought about, i'm proud of what i managed to do! 
> 
> mahiyoko week is run by my wonderful friend maple, the prompts are super good!! gonna def try to get something else done, maybe some drawing on my tumblr, but for now... we have this! also i gifted it to them because i love them
> 
> stay safe, lovelies!


End file.
